My Name is Gabriel?
by TheJesusMobile
Summary: This six part series takes place between 'Godsend' and 'The Fix.' As Sylar is trapped within the Company, what would happen if Mr. Bennet sent the Haitian to erase his memories? Chapter SIX is now up! R&R please!
1. Vulnerability

**MY NAME IS… GABRIEL?**

_Copyright © 2008 by Anthony and Crystal Nguyen_

_Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The authors are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

**Chapter One of Six: Vulnerability**

**Vulnerability**; it was what Sylar, or more accurately Gabriel Gray, was experiencing at this very moment. True, he could not control this wretched mistreatment, but he could not stand the terrible pain that it caused his body, the complete and utter _powerlessness_ of it all.

Through his heavy-lidded eyes, he noticed a very large cockroach crawling a mere two inches away from his face. _I am not powerless_, he fiercely thought. _I am not weak. They will not end me, although they have tried. _And it was true. Mr. Bennet, the man to blame for his captivity, and Hank, a medical employee of the Company, had performed several tests upon him, painfully injecting him to the point where he was incapable of coherent speech.

Lying quite still, Sylar began to listen in on Hank and Mr. Bennet having noticed their presence on the opposite side of the looking glass.

"Good news," said Mr. Bennet, "I've been given permission to rid ourselves of Sylar. He will no longer be a problem for us." He stood stock-still before the protective glass and painfully remembered how Eden's body had been mangled between the intricate cracks of the same window.

"Really now?" Hank asked, skeptical. "And how are you planning to go through with that?" He gave a sidelong glance to his co-worker.

Mr. Bennet focused his stare straight through the glass and onto the lethargic body of his prisoner. The sight was menacingly reflected in his horn-rimmed glasses. "I have a friend."

A tall and somewhat mysterious man emerged from the shadows, his skin dark and his expression blank.

"Hollow him out," Mr. Bennet firmly ordered. "Maybe he'll be better off with his next life."

The Haitian silently nodded his head and entered the room, not showing any signs of anxiety whatsoever. He kneeled before Sylar and placed a hand onto his pasty white forehead.

"What are you… doing to me?" Sylar feebly asked. "I… No. No!" He started to flail himself around, struggling and determined to defeat this man. "Too hard. I've worked… too hard…" However, his body refused to agree with what he wanted it to do. He was losing…

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

_Copyright © 2008 by Anthony and Crystal Nguyen_


	2. Reality

**MY NAME IS… GABRIEL?**

_Copyright © 2008 by Anthony and Crystal Nguyen_

**Chapter Two of Six: Reality**

_Deliciously long screams pierced the night as a shadowed man slowly sliced the forehead of a young and innocent cheerleader, as she hopelessly struggled against the metallic red lockers. Warm blood freely flowed from the gash and came in contact with his hands. It felt so good to kill. So good to know that he would soon be invinc— _

The night was once more interrupted, but this time, by the hoarse shouts of a man that would not cease. He howled irrational babblings and soon discovered that he was on the floor of a very small, but brightly lit cell. The screams finally did stop and he allowed his eyes to adjust and frantically search his whereabouts.

"Hello, Gabriel."

The man sharply snapped his head and found that a tall and very regal-looking man stood before him, piercing blue eyes staring through horn-rimmed glasses. "Who… who are you?" he asked, gasping for air.

"Call me… Dr. Bennet." He knelt down to the man's eye level. "You gave us quite a scare blacking out like that, Gabriel—."

"Why do you keep calling me that?" he interrupted, still trying to catch his breath.

Dr. Bennet seemed surprised. "That's your name: Gabriel Gray." A silence. "You… don't remember?"

"Remember what?" Gabriel sharply asked. "What _is_ this place? Why am I here?"

"Well," Dr. Bennet began, "you're in a mental hospital. You were admitted here less than a week ago. I'm afraid that you had a psychotic breakdown in your home and because of that, you reside here, at Terrell State Hospital."

Gabriel felt as if the room was closing in on him. "You're mistaken," he managed to whisper. "I—I'm not crazy. I can't be! Please, tell me this isn't real."

Dr. Bennet stood, straightening out his slacks. "I think that you've had enough excitement for today. You need to rest."

"Don't leave me!" Gabriel pleaded. He moved to stand, but found that his body was far too frail to provide any sudden movements. Instead, he slowly outstretched a weak hand, knowing that it wouldn't be long before he would lapse back into unconsciousness again. Gabriel's vision began to blur as he moved his gaze to the doorway where the tall stranger stood, his shadow enveloping his patient's crouched figure.

"We will meet again, Gabriel." Dr. Bennet reversed, closing the door behind him.

---

After a few hours of nonstop clamor, Gabriel found that his throat could not withstand the newly rough and guttural characteristic that would pain him every time he would speak.

Unfortunately, he was completely unaware of how much time had passed after he had lost consciousness and was abandoned by Dr. Bennet. However, when Gabriel had awoken for the second time in the chamber, he could not describe the feeling of absolute disappointment as he came to terms with the fact that his situation was not a twisted nightmare; it was reality, _his_** reality**.

"How sick am I?" Gabriel whispered, ignoring the rasping sensation in his throat. "How can I not remember what happened to me?"

His questioning hazel eyes wandered the four walls responsible for his entrapment. He surprisingly realized that he had not moved from the corner that he had twice woken up in.

Making an intimidating decision, Gabriel gradually raised himself and discovered that he had gained some strength during his uneasy sleep. The first object he noticed was the gray slab of concrete that he supposed was to serve as a bed. The second and third, a white porcelain sink and toilet. And the fourth? A large panel of thick glass that forced a shiver down Gabriel's spine.

The door to his left swung open so suddenly that he violently flinched and began to scramble to his habitual corner. But when he saw the familiar face of Dr. Bennet, his racing pulse calmed almost immediately.

"You," Gabriel said, his voice slightly cracking. "You, Dr. Bennet. Please. You've got to help me. Tell me what I'm doing here. I don't _understand_." The last word was emphasized with a frustrated tone and he put his hands to his face, feeling defeated.

There was a silence as the doctor took in the pitiful scene with unmerciful eyes. "I'll do you one better," he finally spoke.

Gabriel swiftly lifted his head, eyes glimmering with what resembled the tiniest amount of hope.

"Your mother is in one of our facility's visiting rooms. She's waiting for you," Dr. Bennet told in a matter-of-fact tone.

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

_Copyright © 2008 by Anthony and Crystal Nguyen_


	3. Abandoned

**MY NAME IS… GABRIEL?**

_Copyright © 2008 by Anthony and Crystal Nguyen_

**Chapter Three of Six: Abandoned**

Gabriel Gray was finding it difficult to use his two legs as he walked down an endless hallway of identical doors. He constantly darted his eyes to and fro, still uncomfortable about the entire "insane asylum" circumstances, especially concerning the looming security guard striding not two feet behind, strongly gripping both of his arms.

_My mother,_ Gabriel wondered for what seemed like the thousandth time. _My mother… Why can't I remember her?_ He concentrated as hard as his mind would let him, but to no avail._What was she like? Did she love me? Did I—?_

A thunderous pounding interrupted his train of thought, causing him to shrink away from the surrounding walls. This action seemed to set off a chain reaction among the other residents of the asylum, for the pounding came again but louder this time and accompanied with torturous screaming.

_Oh, God, _he horrifically thought to himself._ Who else is trapped here?._ His imagination completely took over, conjuring up images of hysterical maniacs in isolation cells similar to his. _But I'm not like them. I'm different. I'm _sane. Gabriel suddenly felt completely warm from top to bottom. _And I have a mother. She… she will help me. She must know that I'm not crazy. She'll get me out of here._

He spoke for the first time, wanting reassurance. "Doctor… is this really my mother?"

Dr. Bennet abruptly stopped his rapid pace. "Gabriel, would I lie to you?" he asked, giving a small smile.

Before he had a chance to answer, the doctor turned the knob of the nearest door and nodded at the guard to release his patient. "Go on in, Mr. Gray."

Gabriel stole one last look at Dr. Bennet, his mind racing. "Thank you, sir." _Finally, my mother. She's actually here. _He struggled to contain his growing excitement as he strode through the doorway.

However, Gabriel's first impression of the room distracted him, for it was bright, as in the people who even hang about these sorts of rooms are so depressed that the mental hospital thought it a superb idea to provide the room with furniture that was much too orange.

After his eyes adjusted to the flamboyant showings of color, he noticed that this particular Terrell State Hospital visiting room contained a lengthy, rectangular table and two chairs as well as a collection of oil paintings that hung upon the flowery wall paper.

Sitting in the nearest seat was a woman who looked to be in her late fifties. Her thinning brown hair fell down in waves and her searching eyes met his own.

He nervously stepped forward. "Mom?"

"Gabriel," she said, her voice soft. "Oh, my poor boy, my poor son." She rose out of her chair and advanced to meet him in a tight embrace.

At first, it felt completely awkward to be in such close contact with someone that he did not remember, but after reminding himself of the close relationship that he _must_have had with this woman once before, Gabriel willingly relaxed into her welcoming arms.

Following several quiet minutes, Mrs. Gray finally released her son and gestured for him to sit in the seat beside her own. Without delay, her eyes began to rake away at his appearance, her expression becoming more somber and cheerless the longer she looked.

But instead of articulating her sadness, she delicately said, "I missed you, Gabriel."

His mouth opened, but he couldn't quite bring himself to say 'I missed you too' when he still could not summon up any memories of this woman whatsoever.

She nervously laughed. "You probably want to know what's going on back home. Well, I—"

"Actually," Gabriel interrupted. "I… I don't remember home." He looked down at his knotted fingers and felt shame poisoning his body.

His mother averted eye contact as well. "The doctors told me that you might not… because of your breakdown." She exhaled unevenly. "And, and it's okay… if you don't. I mean, it's not like you wanted this to happen… or anything…" Her eyes became glassy and tears began to spill over, leaving moist paths upon her aging face. "Oh, Gabriel…" she uttered, reaching for his hands. "What has happened to you?"

"Mom," he said, the word feeling strange on his lips. "It's okay. It's gonna be okay. I'm not really sick."

She lifted her head, still clutching his hands.

"Listen, Mom," he began, "I've heard the other people living here. I'm not like them. I'm not a psycho and I'm not crazy. I… What I'm trying to say is… will you help me?"

"What do you mean?" She seemed distrustful, her eyebrows knitted.

"Help me _leave_," Gabriel replied earnestly.

Mrs. Gray **abandoned** the grasp upon her son. "I—I don't believe it's best to do that right now."

"Why not?" he alarmingly countered.

She studied him closely as she said, "You're still sick, Gabriel. You need the help that this hospital can offer you."

He said nothing, but remained shocked that his own mother would not agree with him.

"Don't you understand, son?" she asked, seeking approval.

"If you loved me, you would do this for me." Every word burned as it left his mouth. Gabriel felt sick that he would even say such a thing, but wasn't it true? _She's my mother… and yet she doesn't want to get me out of this place?_

"How dare you?" his mother demanded, sounding not only surprised, but also wounded. "I had to watch as your mind would get worse and worse every day. You would talk of things that I didn't understand. You would talk of things that didn't even _exist_. You were, and still are very sick, and I will not help you leave this place until—"

Gabriel brought his two fists down onto the table, feeling a rush of anger. "NO," he roared, completely displeased. "I. AM NOT. SICK."

His mother immediately stood, edging towards the door. "I think it's time for me to leave."

"NO," he repeated. "GET… ME… OUT OF HERE!" His voice began to feel strained once more, but he could care less.

The small woman hastily exited the room, throwing a frightened glance over her shoulder while alerting the guard that this visit was unquestionably over.

Gabriel let out another scream of frustration, damaging his vocal chords. He turned away from the door and made another fist. Without a moment's hesitation, he hit the wall with such force that he felt blood trickling down his right hand. He let his head rest against the same wall, trying to control his emotion.

It was then that he noticed that the wall was bare; the painting was gone. He picked up his head and reversed his body only to find that every other decorative painting was also not in their right place, but rather, suspended in the air.

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

_Copyright © 2008 by Anthony and Crystal Nguyen_


	4. Reflection

**MY NAME IS… GABRIEL?**

_Copyright © 2008 by Anthony and Crystal Nguyen_

**Chapter Four of Six: Reflection**

_The house was quiet. No one knew he was arriving. No one ever knew. He encountered the husband first, but simply raised his hand, unleashing a cruel wintry. The man spent a longer amount of time with the wife, impaling her body one blade at a time. He could not locate the child, but this did not bother him. He would find her soon, rip open her skull and— _

Gabriel's eyes flew open; the sight of a very plain, gray wall met him as it did everyday. He noticed his irregular breathing and recalled the nightmare that plagued his sleeping mind the previous night. He slowly raised his body from the concrete slab and used a hand to wipe the nervous sweat that had collected on his forehead.

"What is happening to me?" he quietly asked. "Why do I keep having these dreams?"

His mind felt as if it was going to split every which way. He found that forced concentration only increased this pain so he swung his legs over the edge of the concrete and massaged his temples with weak fingers.

After the headache had temporarily subsided, Gabriel observed that his daily lunch had been dropped off in the food slot while he was, so to speak, dead to the world.

He unsteadily made his way over to the opening and peeked inside to see what gag-worthy, poor excuse of nourishment was being served today. First, there was a small, plastic tray that messily included a type of mystery meat casserole, several unnameable vegetables and an already sealed container of chocolate pudding. Beside the tray were the plastic utensils and the usual cup of cold water.

Knowing that this was as good as it gets, he removed the tray from the slot and set it down on the concrete slab. He positioned himself in front of the food while sitting cross-legged on his bed and stared at it without ever having the intention of ingesting the slop into his body.

Sighing, Gabriel picked up the cup and drained the contents into his mouth without a second thought. The shock of the icy drink alerted his senses and he became more aware of his surroundings. He also regained his ability to think comprehensibly without his head severely aching him.

He sadly recalled the events of yesterday's visit with his mother. He was angry at his impulsive temper, but she was his only way out, his only escape plan. And now, there wasn't any chance of him getting an early release.

And then… And then there was that _phenomenon_. That indescribable event that happened after his mother had left the room, when the paintings had been floating.

He tightly closed his eyes. "Was I hallucinating? Am I really crazy?" His defensive self immediately cried out_, "No, I'm not crazy!"_ but his more logical self said_, "Of course I was hallucinating. I'm in a mental hospital. Obviously, I'm still sick."_

However, Gabriel's hopeful side questioned the impossible_, "Was it _me_?"_

He reopened his eyes, knowing that this situation wasn't going to be any clearer than it was twenty-four hours ago. As a distraction, he moved to pick up the tray and place it back into the slot, but could not locate it. Taken aback, he leaned over the edge, thinking that it had fallen and he had somehow not noticed. But it wasn't anywhere near the ground; it was hovering five feet above his bed.

Gabriel was rooted to the spot, his expression full of disbelief. "How is this h-happening?" He continued to stare, but then decided to move forward. As soon as he did, the food tray stopped its levitation and clattered down upon the bed, the sound echoing throughout the room.

There was a sense of familiarity about this abnormality, this _specialness_. "I wonder if…"

But before he could finish his sentence, he focused his eyes on the empty cup in front of him and put as much of his mental force as he could towards it.

The cup remained motionless.

_Come on. Move… move… _Gabriel silently urged. _Please. Give me a reason to live, to _know_ that I'm not crazy!_

The cup slightly twitched in response to his desperate, internal outburst, causing him to widen his eyes and lose his concentration for a small moment. _Just a little more… _he thought, refocusing. _Just… just… MOVE!_

At that very moment, the plastic cup traveled across the length of the concrete rectangle, one inch at a time, a gravelly noise emitting from the cup scraping against the rough surface. Eventually, it reached the edge and toppled out of sight.

There was a dead silence as Gabriel went through the process of replaying the scene back and forth in his mind for reassurance that he wasn't insane, but then he doubled over as his head began to explode with the invasion of haunting visions…

_A man sat in a watchmaker's shop, Gray & Sons, restoring a timepiece. His neat brown hair contrasted greatly with his pale, clean-shaven face. He wore glasses with several specific lenses and was joined by another man, much older. The two were in deep conversation. _

"_The self-winding coil is loose. Your watch is running two seconds slow."_

"_How did you know?"_

"_Just a talent I have for the way things work, how the parts should go."_

The scene gave way to another, blurring slightly as it did so.

_The setting was identical, but stationed closer to the front door. The watchmaker was present and in the company of a different man. _

_"So you can help?"_

_"Don't worry, Brian, I can fix it. It's an evolutionary imperative!" _

Unfortunately, this sequence was similar to the domino effect: once the first memory had been recollected, the process could not stop.

"_Hello, Chandra. Why won't you talk to me? You can't leave me like this…"_

"_Hello, Mr. Sylar. I asked you not to call here anymore."_

"_The hunger, it's—I can't control it. I don't want to. You made me this way."_

"_I made you a murderer?"_

The question continued to sinisterly echo as the next flashback began.

_The watchmaker, now looking much more rugged, was locked in a small isolation cell. On the opposite side of the glass, stood a short-haired brunette woman. _

"_I'm gonna take this gun, and I'm gonna put it in that slot. You're gonna take it, and you're gonna blow your brains out."_

"_You knew, didn't you?" _

_He swiftly pulled his fist back, causing the woman to fly straight towards him, shattering the glass. The shock was visible even through her terrified and bloodstained face. To worsen the situation, the man roughly took a hold of her neck. _

"_You knew what I was, and you let it continue. In a way, you helped me. And after I've consumed your power, you'll help me even more."_

_The woman slowly brought up the gun in her right hand, suggesting his own death. _

"_Oh, Eden, you know that won't hurt me."_

_To his surprise, she aimed the muzzle at her own head. The deafening sound of her gunshot not only reverberated from wall to wall within his dream, but also forced Gabriel's abrupt awakening…_

There was a great intake of breath as his body lifted from the solid concrete. The throbbing of his head began to die away, but his mind was still pulsing with this newfound revelation. He gradually slid himself off the bed, his legs feeling powerful for the first time.

He traveled to the large panel of glass directly in front of him, intently gazing at his appearance. The person he caught sight of was a different man. This man was not innocent, not childlike, not Gabriel Gray. After the return of his memories, after acknowledging his **reflection**, his true identity was obvious.

"My name is…" he lingered, a malicious grin stretching across his face. "Sylar."

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

_Copyright © 2008 by Anthony and Crystal Nguyen_


	5. Bloodshed

**MY NAME IS… GABRIEL?**

_Copyright © 2008 by Anthony and Crystal Nguyen_

**Chapter Five of Six: Bloodshed**

"Time," Sylar hungrily murmured. "It's only a matter of time before my inevitable escape. I will leave this place burning to the ground, and Bennet will sincerely regret _ever_ crossing paths with me."

He gave a wicked smile, fondly stroking the glass panel, the source of his identity restoration. "No one will stop me; it's impossible."

Four agonizing days had come and gone, but with the passing of each twenty-four hours, Sylar grew just a bit stronger; at least, strong enough to guarantee his break out.

In the beginning, it was irritatingly difficult to harness the specifics of his ability as he had done so once before. And to his disappointment, Sylar also discovered that he was not able to use his ability after ten minutes or so, simply because of the severe mental drainage he would experience. But eventually, his tolerance for pain rose higher and higher every single day just as his telekinesis regained part of its familiar strength and control.

He would practice with the food utensils given to him on a daily basis and would sometimes use his blanket as a somewhat more difficult target.

As the door of the outer hallway unlocked to reveal the lunch orderly, Sylar quietly chuckled to himself, "Now it's time for the show, ladies and gentlemen."

The woman shuffled inside, pulling the cart in behind her. She leisurely went through the process of removing a random food tray and placing it into the slot.

He narrowly eyed her as she pushed the drawer from her side to his. The woman caught his awkward stare and sensed a bit of foreboding. Gulping, she turned and began to hurriedly enter the number password into the keypad, anxious to exit.

Sylar made his move, and with one flick of a finger, the lock of his cell door had been simultaneously undone just as the woman swung open the outer door. The timing of his plan was perfect, as his action went unnoticed. He quickly moved himself across the room and out of his personal prison.

Sneaking up the steps, he noticed the woman's physical struggle while attempting to haul the lunch cart into the outside hallway. Taking advantage of this, Sylar moved his finger once again and forced the orderly to smash her head against the doorway.

Her body had barely hit the floor by the time he began to move it inwards, away from prying eyes. He also shoved the lunch cart behind him and closed the door, enjoying the finality of its click.

One of the first things Sylar noticed as he began to move about the hallways was the countless amounts of security cameras. He lifted his left index finger and made a swirling motion. As he did that, the cameras swiveled on their platforms, now uselessly recording the wall.

---

Mr. Bennet readjusted his glasses as he briskly strolled the corridors of the Company. His intent was to revisit Mr. Gabriel Gray, seemingly harmless behind the concrete walls of his cage.

However, two minutes later, his findings on the opposite side of the door proved otherwise. He took one look at the unfortunate woman and quickly spun on the heel of his black dress shoes.

He was now heading towards the nearest emergency phone. He picked up its plastic receiver and simply said, "Code Red: Sylar is on the loose."

---

Dizziness did not bode well with Sylar. In fact, as he traveled through the ubiquitous, maze-like passageways of the Company, he could not help but feel extremely disoriented.

"Sylar!" a guard called from behind him. "You're going back to your cell, buddy!" His southern drawl became apparent almost immediately.

Mocking his Texan accent, Sylar replied, "Maybe I'll kill you first." He flicked his finger and demolished the man without even looking back.

Sylar's eyes began to follow the path of his victims, as he longed for the delight of **bloodshed**. First, they would unexpectedly lift from the ground and then, they would be thrown against any of the surrounding walls. He reveled in their pain, cherished their shouts of surprise.

But after his third consecutive round of security guards coming from each hallway, Sylar began to feel a small weakness in his mind as he used his ability more and more frequently. _It doesn't matter_, he thought. _I'm almost out. This is it. This—_

The exit that Sylar knew as his escape route was blocked by a man, a Haitian man. He stood there as if bodies had not been flying against walls for the past fifteen minutes. More importantly, he stood there as if Sylar was not a threat.

His eyebrows lowered. "I know you," he said, keeping his voice low.

The Haitian did not reply. He didn't even move.

"You won't stop me," Sylar said. "No one will."

Nevertheless, his heartbeat began to rapidly accelerate as the Haitian put one foot in front of the other, drawing closer.

Sylar raised his hand, ready for anything that would be thrown at him.

However, the Haitian remained nonviolent. As he reached a safe distance, he outstretched his right hand and lowered it before Sylar's face.

He reacted immediately and used his finger to repel the man backwards, but no such thing happened. Sylar examined his hands in wonder. _Am I broken?_

Before he could lift his head to question the Haitian, his eyes rolled backwards and his vision became black…

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

_Copyright © 2008 by Anthony and Crystal Nguyen_


	6. Foolish

**MY NAME IS… GABRIEL?**

_Copyright © 2008 by Anthony and Crystal Nguyen_

**Chapter Six of Six: Foolish**

"That didn't particularly go as planned," commented a man in shadow.

Mr. Bennet nodded in agreement. "It was quite unexpected." His eyes shifted around his employer's office. "What would you like me to do now?"

Silence.

"Do it again. But this time…"

---

"Dr. Bennet," Sylar spitefully taunted. "_Doctor!_ Did you really think I was _that_**foolish**?"

Once again, Mr. Bennet stood opposite Sylar through the thick layer of glass. "You seemed pretty foolish when you were desperately begging me for—"

"I was disabled," Sylar harshly cut in. "I would have laughed at your cheap imitation of my mother had I not been deluded by your silly mind tricks."

"Silly mind tricks?" Mr. Bennet echoed. "Do you really perceive them as such? These 'mind tricks' have saved lives."

"Only for the time being," the villain smugly countered.

"No," said Mr. Bennet. "You will be stopped, again and again. What you did to Eden will never happen to anyone else. You won't even be able to _touch_ Claire."

There was a silence as the threat hung in the air between the two men.

"You're wasting your time, Bennet," Sylar finally uttered. "I already have you figured out. You're noble; you think it's your responsibility to save everyone. Why do you even bother to lecture me about _my_ actions?"

A small smile played upon Mr. Bennet's lips as he significantly said, "Because by tomorrow... it won't matter."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**__…_

_Copyright © 2008 by Anthony and Crystal Nguyen_


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